


bad spaghetti

by spearbi



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Language, M/M, also a sonic the hedgehog blanket... rip, and brief dick mention, b - Freeform, banginho, chanmin???, kissin, minchan, sexy times but u dont see it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-25
Updated: 2018-10-25
Packaged: 2019-08-07 06:04:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16402697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spearbi/pseuds/spearbi
Summary: Minho considers himself to be well trained in the Art of Seduction- however, his best friend seems to be immune to his tactics. Well- as they so famously say, desperate times call for desperate measures.





	bad spaghetti

**Author's Note:**

> based off one of my tweets on twitter. haven't written in a while so this was rly nice! uni is a bitch. as always, feedback is greatly appreciated! :D
> 
> (also i feel like the title could be a 3racha song LOL)
> 
> EDIT: YOU WEIRDOS CALL THIS SHIP BANGINHO I CANT FUCKEN BREAAAAATHE

Lee Minho considers himself to be very much above average when it comes to the Great Art of Seduction. It’s a game as old as time itself, and as far as Minho’s concerned, he’s got it in the bag. He’s had men fall for him with just a bat of his eyelashes, made girls swoon with a smile, and has enough ex-boyfriends to start a small independent nation. 

Everyone that Minho has ever set his sights on, he’s won over. 

_Except for this dumbass_ , Minho thinks, glaring over to where his best friend and current object of his affection sits.

Bang Chan: curly haired music student, Minho’s roommate, and his friend of five years. Minho’s seen him grow from a soft spoken, gangly nerd to charismatic sex on a stick, and he still likes the guy.

In short: he’s fucked.

Advanced Calculus is the easiest and most boring class Minho has ever taken- thankfully, Chan is in it, so Minho spends his time drooling over the other boy and trading gossip with the other girls in class. His professor loathes him. 

Chan seems lost in thought today, his gaze fixed towards the window, chin propped up by his hand. He’s wearing what he always wears: a faded hoodie and even more worn jeans. How he manages to look good in that, Minho will never understand. Maybe it has to do with the fact that Chan is really, really attractive.

Minho can feel his eyes glazing over as he traces Chan’s side profile with his face, the monotonous drone of the professor fading into the background.

Something sharp pokes him in the side, and Minho jumps, startled, before turning to glare at his friend and deskmate, Eujin. “What was that for?” He hisses, wincing as the professor clears his throat, clearly annoyed. Eujin flips her long black hair over her shoulder, lips twisted upwards into a knowing smirk. “You were staring again,” she says, matter-of-fact. “It’s kind of painfully obvious, you know. Why not just ask him out?” 

Minho lets his head fall onto his desk with a thunk. “I’ve tried all the regular stuff, but it has no effect on him.” 

_Example 1: “Chan, my back is sore. Would you mind giving me a massage?” Minho makes sure to look at the older boy through his eyelashes, inserting as much ‘please destroy my ass’ energy into the look as he can. Chan smiles brightly, closing the laptop, and pats the empty spot on the couch. “Sure! Long day?”_

_“You have no idea,” Minho purrs, arching back into Chan’s hands the moment they touch his back. He makes what would normally be an obscene and over the top amount of moans, but these are desperate measures for desperate times._

_“Wow, dude,” Chan says sympathetically, failing to see the way Minho shudders when his breath ghosts over the back of Minho’s neck, “You’re really tense- you must be in a lot of pain.”_

_“Like I said,” Minho grits out, fighting the urge to scream, “you have no idea.”_

He sighs. “Maybe I’ve lost my touch.”

“Minho,” Eujin says lowly, leaning in until they’re almost nose to nose, “You are literally the sexiest person in this entire school. People trip over themselves just to be in your presence. You’re an annoying little shit, but you’re hot. It’s not you.” She pauses to write down an equation in her notebook. “Maybe he’s straight, dude.” 

_Straight._ “Like. Heterosexual?” Minho whimpers, gripping his mechanical pencil so hard it makes a cracking sound. Eujin nods slowly, like she’s talking to a very young child. “Yeah. Have you ever actually asked who he’s into? Or are you just assuming he’s into guys?” 

“But he watches _Tokyo Mew Mew_ ,” Minho argues. “No straight, heterosexual man watches Tokyo Mew Mew. No heterosexual man learns all the transformation poses.” 

There’s pity in Eujin’s eyes. “You’d be surprised, Minho. Maybe try talking to Chan about it the next time you’re together?” 

Miserable, Minho nods, not noticing that the class has ended until a familiar hand ruffles his hair. Chan beams at him, dimples and all, and Minho melts. “Hey! Wanna go get lunch before my next class?” Minho sighs and looks up at the god-like, extremely kissable features of his best friend. His unattainable best friend. “Yeah, only if you buy.” 

Chan winks, waggling his eyebrows. “Anything for you, baby.” 

Minho forces out a weak laugh, and follows Chan out of the classroom. <

_Example 2: The outfit is glorious. It shows more skin than fabric, and his mother would detest it, so obviously Minho adores it. He smiles as he carefully draws on a curved cat’s eye of on his upper eyelid. He looks good, and he knows it. It’s clubbing night with he and Chans’ friend group- seven other boys whom he cherishes very much. Minho loves clubbing, loves dancing- he relishes in the high that comes from dancing for himself, for other people, for the DJ. Minho almost always goes home with someone on clubbing nights, and his friends affectionately clown him for it._

_Jisung does a double take when Minho runs down the stairs to where the rest of group is gathered, eyes comically wide. “Looking good, Minho!”_

_“I usually look good,” Minho says dryly, smiling at Jisung, and the younger boy reddens._

_“You know what I mean. You look extra good.”_ _“You’re my boyfriend, remember,” Felix says, flicking Jisung on the forehead. “Don’t go stealing my man, yeah Minho?”_ __

_Minho sniffs. “It’s not my fault that I was born so beautiful.” Woojin snickers, and Changbin rolls his eyes._

_“Hey, Chan,” Changbin says slyly, elbowing the older boy in the ribs, “How do you think Minho looks tonight?"_

_Fuck you, Minho mouths at the shorter boy, and Changbin shoots him a cheeky grin in response._

_Chan looks up from his phone, to give Minho a once over, expression curiously blank, and Minho feels his body temperature increase by at least twenty degrees._

_“You look great!” Chan says, eyes crinkling into crescent moons._

_“Thanks,” Minho says quietly._

_Chan’s smile fades, and he locks eyes with Minho. Long seconds pass, and Minho starts to get more and more flustered. This is unlike both of them._

_Minho swallows, throat dry, and it’s Chan who first breaks eye contact. Minho stands there, feeling strangely exposed, watching as Chan shows Seungmin and Hyunjin something funny on his phone._

_The topic changes, and despite the compliment, Minho is in a bad mood the entire rest of the night._

The café they step into is one they frequent often- it’s a 24-hour café, perfect for university students who are in need of both decent Wi-Fi and food. They settle themselves into a little booth by the window, the late autumn sun painting the side of Chan’s face and hair with little strokes of golden light. 

“Man, I’m starved,” Chan groans, opening the menu despite having ordered everything on it already. 

“Me too,” Minho murmurs, staring at the curve of Chan’s lips with a singular fixation. 

“I think I’m gonna go for the spaghetti. Haven’t had that in a while.” Chan muses, snapping the menu shut and waving for the server. “I’ll get the spaghetti too,” Minho mutters, determination surging within him. He wants Chan so bad- he wants the older boy’s stupid jokes and warm hands and unbelievably kind heart. 

The serve comes and deposits two large bowls of spaghetti onto the table, as well as a smaller basket of garlic bread. The server (Jenny, her nametag reads,) leans towards Minho with a sweet smile on her face. “You just let me know if you need anything else, okay?” 

“’Kay,” Minho replies miserably, poking a meatball with his fork. 

“She was cute,” Chan says quietly, looking across the table at Minho. 

“Yeah, I guess she was,” Minho says, viciously shoving the entire meatball into his mouth. 

Maybe he’s having such a hard time seducing Chan because he genuinely likes him. Minho doesn’t want another one-night stand, another quick fuck in the bathroom of a rural Trader Joe’s. As disgusting as it sounds, Minho wants all of Chan, wants to wake up next to him and hold his hand and maybe fuck in the bathroom of a Whole Foods instead of a Trader Joe’s. 

_Ew. I think I might love him._

“Minho?” 

Minho blinks himself out of his epiphany and meets Chan’s eyes. He looks almost sad, which is an expression he doesn’t often see on the other boy’s face. “Sorry, what did you say?” 

Chan twirls spaghetti around the tines of his fork. 

“I said, she seemed to be interested in you. She’d probably give you her number if you asked.” 

Minho stares blankly at the curly haired boy. 

_Good fucking lord! How thick is he?_

Minho fights back a frustrated scream, steels himself, loads up a forkful of spaghetti, and decides to give it one last try. 

Example 3: Maintaining direct eye contact with Chan, he shoves a massive bite of spaghetti into his mouth, cheeks bulging. “Chan,” Minho says slowly, voice slightly garbled around the pasta, “I’m gay.” 

He swallows with a gulp, noting how Chan’s eyes track the movement of his adam’s apple. 

If Minho weren’t so sexually and emotionally frustrated, the way Chan’s spaghetti covered fork completely misses his mouth and jabs into his lower cheek would be incredibly amusing. 

“Uh,” Chan says, eyes wide, mouth comically agape. There's a smear of sauce on his cheek. 

“Did you really never see any of the guys I brought home?” Minho says incredulously. Chan shakes his head. 

“Or all of the times I talked about how I’d suck the Dwayne the Rock’s dick for a pack of gum and two pennies?” 

“No, I thought they were girls with like. Really deep voices? And, well- anybody would do that,” Chan says faintly, cheeks flushing slightly pink. 

He attempts to put the forkful of spaghetti into his mouth again, but it falls back onto the plate with a sad plop, spraying marinara sauce across the table. 

“I am Very Gay,” Minho confirms, making sure to enunciate his words carefully, “and I am also Very Single.” For one thrilling, hopeful moment, Minho is positive that Chan is going to make a move. Do something. Anything. 

“Uh,” Chan says again, and then falls silent. Minho watches the older boy shovel spaghetti into his mouth with an overwhelming sense of despair. _Well, at least I tried._ \ 

They finish eating and walk back to their dorm in a quiet silence that feels stilted and strangely awkward. Chan unlocks the door to their flat without a word, and when Minho looks up to apologize for clearly making him uncomfortable, the other boy has already disappeared into his room. 

_I fucked up,_ Minho thinks, hot tears welling up embarrassingly in the corners of his eyes. _He hates me now._ And he cries, the front door still open, shoes clutched tightly in his hands. He stays like that for a few minutes more, before he slides his shoes back on and makes a beeline for the nearest 7-11, nose running and vision blurry. 

He stands in front of the frozen goods section for a good fifteen minutes before wiping away his tears and grabbing some ice cream. The cashier, a high schooler, gives him a sympathetic look when Minho slides two pints of strawberry ice cream across the counter. 

“Rough day?” 

“I want the void to consume me,” Minho sniffles. The cashier- his nametag reads ‘Jeongin’- scratches his head awkwardly and sighs. “Here. It’s on the house just for today.” He slides Minho’s money back to him, silver braces peeking through his lips as he smiles gently. 

“Oh, that’s really sweet of you,” Minho says, and starts crying again. 

It takes another five minutes of Jeongin patting Minho’s shoulder and consoling him before Minho actually leaves the 7-11. “Here’s my number,” Jeongin says shyly, “In case you want to talk about anything. I’m new here- I don’t really have a whole lot of friends yet.” Minho accepts the piece of paper gratefully. “You’re in high school, right? I’m a first year university student.” 

Jeongin nods. “Yeah, I’m a senior.” 

“Cool, there’s another high schooler in our friend group- we’re actually going out this weekend, you should come.” 

“Okay,” Jeongin mumbles, placing the cartons of strawberry ice cream in a plastic bag and gently handing it over to Minho. “Talk to you soon?” 

“Yeah,” Minho says, smiling over at his shoulder at the younger boy, “and thanks, Jeongin.” 

He walks home feeling exhausted, drained, and gross, but at least he’s no longer about to burst into tears. He spent more time out then he’d originally thought- the sun has just set and if he squints, Minho can just make out the moon peeking out from the skyline. 

_The ice cream has probably melted by now_ , he thinks sadly, swinging the plastic shopping bag from side to side as he walks up the steps to the flat. Chan must have closed the door behind him- Minho has to use the spare key from under the flower pot on the front step to unlock it. 

He toes off his shoes as quietly as he can, wincing as the plastic bag crinkles obnoxiously in the stillness of the flat. He’s carefully creeping past Chan’s room when a small voice calls out to him from the den. 

“Minho?” 

Heart in his throat, Minho turns, and there Chan is, sitting on the couch with a blanket wrapped around him. Again, tears threaten to prick the backs of his eyes, and he furiously wills them to dissipate as he drags his feet towards the worn couch. “I bought some ice cream,” he says lamely, holding up the shopping bag. 

“Strawberry?” 

“Yeah.” He wordlessly offers a pint to Chan, who accepts it gratefully. “I’ll go grab some spoons,” Minho mutters, desperate to escape the heavy atmosphere hanging over them. He flinches as a warm, warm hand wraps around his wrist, stilling him. He turns back. There’s a glimmer of something familiar in Chan’s eyes, a set to his brows, that makes him stay. 

Chan swallows, clears his throat. “I’m sorry for acting so weird today,” he says, his thumb rubbing circles into the underside of Minho’s wrist. “I just-,” 

Minho cuts him off. “No, I get it. I was coming on too strong and you got weirded out. Sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise.” 

“Wait, no-,” Chan blurts, his grip around Minho’s wrist tightening. “That’s the thing. I wasn’t weirded out. I thought you were straight, so when you said that, I was- I was really happy.” 

Minho blinks. “Happy?” 

Chan looks up at him through his eyelashes, cheeks red. “Happy because I’ve liked you for a really long time now.” Minho looks down at the beautiful, stupid man wrapped in his Sonic the Hedgehog blanket. Chan releases Minho’s wrist. “And I thought I might have a chance but- I think I made it worse so I’ll just-,” 

_A very beautiful, very stupid man._

Chan begins to move off of the couch, but doesn’t get far, because Minho seats himself right in the middle of his lap, Sonic blanket be damned. “So,” Minho murmurs, leaning into the older boy, “You’re telling me that you’ve liked me all this time and you haven’t done anything about it?” 

“I was scared?” Chan squeaks, face a brilliant shade of scarlet. Minho smiles a slow, sweet grin. “And what about all those times I came onto you?” 

“You’re a very flirty person, and very out of my league, so I never let myself-,” 

“But you were flustered?” 

Chan looks away. “Very.” 

“Well, thank god,” Minho laughs, soft and quiet, and pulls the older boy in for a bruising kiss. It's hot and fast and messy- just like them. Chan’s lips are soft and warm and very experienced, and he finds himself having to pull away for air. He knocks his forehead against Chan’s and lets out a shuddering sigh. At some point, Chan’s hands have slide their way underneath his shirt to cup the small of his back, and he finds that very attractive and also Very Distracting. 

“Just for the record,” he pants, carding his hair through Chan’s curls, “You are definitely in my league. Also, you’re very hot. And I like you a lot.” 

“Oh,” Chan marvels, letting out a large exhale, “Oh my god. I like you too.” 

Minho purrs in satisfaction and watches as the older boy squirms beneath him. “You know what that means?” 

“We’re gonna date now?” 

“Yes. Also,” Minho declares, finding the buttons on Chan’s stupidly tight jeans and undoing them one by one, “It means I’m going to suck your dick.” 

“Oh! Okay,” Chan says breathlessly, voice cracking. “That’s good too. Very good.” Minho grins wickedly, and kisses Chan again. And again. And again. 

The cartons of strawberry ice cream lie on the carpet, melting and largely forgotten, but in Minho’s opinion, it’s money well spent. 


End file.
